


Hotel Blues

by typingtrash



Category: Gotham (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst, Drinking to Cope, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 12:30:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12681927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typingtrash/pseuds/typingtrash
Summary: The room has two beds, and Cory has been more than happy to share the space with Robin since yesterday, but Dickie’s unexpected arrival is… complicating. Frustrating.





	Hotel Blues

Despite knowing that nothing will ever come of it, nothing will ever actually  _ happen  _ if they’re left alone, Cory can’t help the resentful disappointment that makes his stomach feel hollow while he watches Dickie release Robin from a lingering embrace and head off to let himself into the shared hotel room to drop his bags off. The room has two beds, and Cory has been more than happy to share the space with Robin since yesterday, but Dickie’s unexpected arrival is… complicating. Frustrating.

Robin’s pleasantly surprised expression as he watches his husband walk off leaves a bad taste in Cory’s mouth. He’s not ready, he hadn’t thought that he’d have to keep the charade up over the next few days, he doesn’t want to have to  _ deal with this _ .

They usually room together if Robin comes alone, and Cory had been looking forward to the few days that he’d have most of Robin’s attention to himself, but now their room is beginning to look like it’ll be a bit crowded. Lips twisting into a faint scowl, Cory looks away, only to startle when he locks eyes with Sean where he’s standing a few feet to his right.

There’s something  _ too _ understanding on Sean’s face, too  _ knowing _ , and Cory’s blood runs cold. He schools his expression into something more like an oblivious smile and tilts his head to one side. “What?”   


Sean pauses for too long, giving off the impression that he’s seen right through him, and Cory has to fight the urge to shy away from the penetrating stare. “It’s good he showed, isn’t it? It’ll be like a mini vacation for them,” he finally says, jerking his head in Robin’s direction. “Well. When Robin’s not busy, at least.”

It takes a surprising amount of willpower to not grind his teeth. “Yeah,” he agrees, hating how stiffly it comes out. “S’great.”

The older man keeps staring, searching. Unnerved, Cory straightens his back and starts to turn away, only to come to a stop when a hand catches his jacket’s sleeve. Closing his eyes briefly, he breathes in slowly and faces Sean again, phony smile still plastered on his face.

“It’s alright, you know,” Sean tells him, voice gravelly when he lowers it as if he were sharing a secret. “If it gets to be too much… I’ve been told I’m a great listener. Or we can see what I can scrounge up at the minibar.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, sorry,” Cory says faux-cheerfully, patting Sean on the shoulder and  _ fleeing _ . His heart beats too loudly in his ears and he has to remind himself that he hasn’t  _ confirmed _ anything. Sean is just guessing. He’s guessing far too accurately, sure, but it’s still just a guess.

He doesn’t  _ know _ . He can’t know, because if Sean has noticed then that opens up the terrifying possibility that other people have noticed as well. That Dickie, or worse,  _ Robin _ , has noticed.

And that’s the last thing he needs.

* * *

 

Cory manages to get through the day without incident. He avoids Sean a bit, dodges him in the hallway, but he still counts the day as a relative success. Interviews had taken up most of the afternoon, it's the evening that's worrying him.

He hasn't seen much of Dickie since the man had arrived, and he’s spent the majority of the afternoon with Robin in interview after interview. The high of close proximity to the other man, giggling at their shared jokes and placing unnecessary hands over shoulders, arms and legs, is still buzzing under his skin but it's beginning to wear off.

In its place is the sinking realisation that they're all free for the rest of the night. There'd been talk about going out for a late dinner so he'd headed back to the room to shower quickly, letting out a quietly relieved sigh when he'd found it empty.

Watching the casual affection between his two erstwhile roommates at the dinner is going to be enough, he doesn't want to have to deal with it  _ here _ quite yet.

He's in the middle of fixing his hair in the mirror when he hears the door outside open and shut. His mouth is already open to call out to whoever had come in, only for it to abruptly snap shut when he catches the faint sound of quiet laughter and what can only be described as a  _ moan _ .

Cory freezes up, though his hands don't seem to get the memo. They tremble almost violently while he stares at his reflection, helplessly taking in the mixture of shock and dismay that he finds there. He's had a nightmare like this once, he thinks distantly, unable to just make himself  _ move _ . Idly, he notes the sharp pain in his chest when he hears low, unintelligible voices. He has no idea what they're saying, he doesn't really  _ want _ to, but he knows that tone, intimate and tender.

It's unpleasant to listen to. It's agonising, actually.

A muffled  _ thump _ finally breaks Cory out of his stupor. Hair styling now entirely forgotten, he smacks blindly at the light switch until it turns off then wrenches the bathroom door open and, head bowed, makes a run for the door, pointedly ignoring the alarmed yelp his sudden appearance elicits.

Despite his best efforts he still catches sight of them out of the corner of his eye. Thankfully, it looks like they're still dressed, at least. But they're already on a bed.  _ His _ bed, he notes with a nauseating roil in his gut, fumbling the door open.

“Wait, sorry, we didn't know you were here. Cory-” Someone calls to him. He doesn't know who and he doesn't  _ care _ .

“Whatever, it's fine, I'll stay somewhere else, it's fine,” he babbles, not entirely sure if it comes out more panicked or bitter, and almost slams the door shut behind him.

It's  _ not _ fine.

Out in the hall, he has a moment to realise that he's left both his phone and his wallet in the bathroom before he hears the door handle turning and panics, taking off down the hall at a near sprint.

“Cory!”

He doesn't stop, tuning out the voice he places as Robin's and barreling into the stairwell to get to a different floor. Any other floor is better than this one right now. Feet moving mechanically, Cory manages to take the stairs without breaking his neck and only slows to a stop when he’s gotten down a couple of levels.

Belatedly realising that he's out of breath, he steps out onto the floor’s main hallway and sinks against the nearest wall. He needs to go… somewhere. Somewhere that's not back up  _ there _ .

The dinner. Shit.

The dinner is out of the question now. The risk of running into Robin and Dickie is far too great, given his interruption hadn't ruined  _ the mood _ and they actually decided to go with the group.

Fighting back the new wave of nausea, Cory pushes off the wall, abruptly remembering Sean's offer from earlier in the day. He has to climb back up a flight of stairs, but once he gets to the right door he stalls, biting anxiously at a thumbnail.

On the one hand, he  _ had _ offered, and Cory has nowhere else to go, especially when missing both his phone and wallet. On the other, guilt is prickling at him for wanting to disrupt Sean's evening just because he can't handle the reality of his stupid  _ crush _ .

It's well past a crush by this point, Cory thinks unhelpfully.

He knocks before he can second guess himself, half hoping that he's already too late and Sean has left.

The door opens to reveal Sean, much to Cory's guilty relief.

“Hi. Um…” Wincing and trailing off, he casts around for something to say, for an explanation. His breath hitches instead, and the adrenaline that had driven him out of his room starts to fade at last, leaving him to start trembling again. Mortified when he realises that his eyes are watering, Cory makes a helpless noise and an accompanying pathetic gesture, hoping it's enough to explain why he's here. “I… They're, uh…”

“Right. Minibar it is, then. Come on,” Sean ushers him inside, eyes soft and painfully compassionate as he guides Cory into taking a seat on the bed.

Staring blurrily down at his hands where they rest in his lap, Cory jerks in surprise when he's suddenly handed a small bottle of what seems to be whiskey. He takes it with a mumbled thanks but doesn't open it, turning the bottle over in his hands instead. “You can go, y’know, I’ll just, uh, hide out here for a bit and… get another room later, I guess.”

Sean scoffs somewhere in front of him and then the bed dips beside Cory as the other man sits next to him. “Hardly likely. I'd be a right shit friend to leave you like this, wouldn't I? Now, bottoms up, go on.”

Hesitating for a split second, Cory opens the bottle and downs its contents in one go. Grimacing as the alcohol burns its way down his throat, he caps the bottle and tosses it behind him, slumping forward to press his face into his hands.

“I can't, Sean, I can't… I don't  _ want  _ to see them like that, it's… I know, I  _ know _ he's married, and I'm so  _ stupid _ but… I can't do it,” he gasps into his hands all at once, voice muffled and breaking.

Cory can't bring himself to raise his head, eyes burning shamefully as the first few tears escape him, but he goes willingly when an arm wraps around his shoulders and pulls him against Sean's side.

If Sean didn't know before, he definitely knows now.

* * *

 

Ironically enough, the only useful thing on his person turns out to be the keycard to the very room he’d fled, which turns out to be rather convenient the next morning.

Head throbbing and feeling stuffed full of cotton, he’d bid Sean goodbye at his door after waking up with a crick in his neck from being awkwardly sprawled at the foot of the bed. He’d only been allowed to leave after promising to show up to their group breakfast. Dragging his feet, Cory takes the elevator back up, scrubbing at his eyes to alleviate the tired burn as he hazily recalls full out sobbing into Sean’s shoulder. He lets out a faintly disgusted sound, irritated that he’d let himself slip so far, but quickly writes it off as unlikely to happen again.

Unlikely to happen in front of another person, anyway.

Casting a cursory glance down at his watch, he sighs, unspeakably grateful to see that it’s well past the time that Robin would normally wake up. Still, when he approaches the room’s door, he falters. It takes a couple of tries, but eventually manages to get himself to unlock the door and step inside.

“You didn’t go to dinner.”

“ _ Jesus! _ ” Flinching back against the door, Cory presses a hand to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut as his head pulses in protest, silently cursing his luck. Regrouping, he peers over to find Robin looking at him with a frown from the  _ right _ bed, and Dickie is, blessedly, nowhere in sight. “I was busy.”

_ Busy getting drunk and crying over a married man because I saw him kissing his husband _ , he doesn’t say.

Using the ensuing silence to cross over to his bag, he digs through it to find a new set of clothes. The ones he’s wearing are hopelessly rumpled.

“You left your things here,” Robin says, just when Cory is beginning to think that he’s going to be able to gather his clothes in peace. Looking up, he follows the vague wave of Robin’s hand, spotting his missing phone and wallet on one of the bedside tables and giving a him a small shrug.

“Like I said, I was busy.”

Robin huffs. “Look, I’m sorry, Cory. We should have checked to see if you were here, but you didn’t have run out-”

“Didn’t really want to stick around to watch you two make out,” he tries, aiming for a lighter tone and landing somewhere closer to  _ sullen _ . “I don’t really want to talk about, Robin, if it’s all the same to you.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a long moment until Robin blinks, frowning like he’s noticed something. “You look like shit.”

Well. “Thanks,” Cory replies dryly.

_ Feel like it, too, _

He waits another second to see if the other man has anything else to say, and when they continue to stare at each other, Cory rises from his crouch and heads for the bathroom with his armful of clothes.

“Cory.”

He wants to cry. He wants to lock himself in the bathroom and be left alone. He wants to go over to Robin and  _ kiss _ him the way he’s wanted to for the past year or so. He wants to track down the exact moment that his feelings had crossed the line between a passing crush and something else entirely and  _ erase _ it, crush it and pretend it had never happened at all.

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Cory turns.

“Where did you go? We didn’t know where you went and then you didn’t show up to the dinner, and your phone was in the bathroom, and now you’re here but, no offense, you really do look like shit,” Robin rushes out, infuriatingly concerned and devastatingly oblivious.

Smoothing a self-conscious hand through his hair, well aware that his restless night of tossing and turning has left it a wreck, Cory simply shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, Robin. I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

“But-”

“Drop it.” Voice taking on a sharper edge, he clenches his jaw once then turns to march into the sanctuary of the bathroom.

“I really am sorry,” Robin says earnestly, and Cory almost laughs at him, chest aching.

_ Yeah, so am I. _

“Don’t be. Just check the room first or put a sock on the door handle. Actually, I’ll save us some time and just get a different room next time. Problem solved.”

He shuts the door quickly and lets his head drop against it, sighing shakily.

It’s fine. He’s fine. And even if he’s not, he can just go hide again, spend another night twisting his neck awkwardly. It’s fine.


End file.
